


Play It Good and Right

by winterwaters



Series: At The Beginning [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Misunderstandings, POV Multiple, The Cheesecake Factory AU, also Anastasia references, another one inspired by BBT, can't really help it, there are probably other tropes I forgot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:58:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4036039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU: Clarke and Bellamy meet one evening while attempting to mediate a meeting between Raven and Wick at The Cheesecake Factory where the girls work. Little do they know, the night has only started.</p><p>Inspired by a scene from The Big Bang Theory 4x04 (The Hot Troll Deviation).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play It Good and Right

**Author's Note:**

> So this originally started when I saw the scene where Penny keeps interrupting Howard & Bernadette while they talk at The Cheesecake Factory. As usual, it took on a life of its own afterwards (I really didn't expect it to get so long, sorry). Title from State of Grace by TSwift. Contains a bunch of references to Anastasia in the second half - you’ve been warned. Happy Friday all! Hope you enjoy :)

Clarke’s pen scratched along her little notepad, taking the customer's order almost absentmindedly while she glanced over at Raven and Wick for the third time. Raven was determinedly staring at the table, and he was staring at her. 

_Watch yourself buddy boy or--_

A polite cough brought her back to the present. Turning back to her customers, Clarke plastered a cheery smile to her face. “Got it, thanks! I’ll go get your drinks and put your orders in.” She hurried away before they could tell her if she was right or not.

Slipping through the back door, she ran into Harper. “Hey! Could you pleeeease cover Table 12 for me for a bit?” She asked pleadingly. “I’ll make it up to you.”

The other girl nodded, pulling her blonde hair into a ponytail as she toed out of her flip-flops and into her striped flats. “Of course. Is the guy here?” 

Clarke shoved a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Just arrived. I sat them at Table 3 for now, it’s pretty slow otherwise.”

“Gotcha. I’ll take care of it. You just take care of her.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed Harper’s arm with a grateful smile before hurrying to the kitchen to grab a few drinks. One cup with ice tea, extra sweet, for Raven, and the other with water, for Wick. Clarke didn’t know what he preferred to drink - and didn’t quite care, at the moment. Until she knew what he was about.

Pushing back through the swinging door, she narrowly avoided crashing into Murphy, cursing his innocent grin while taking stock of her uniform. A few drops had fallen on her red flats, but otherwise her yellow blouse and jean skirt were untouched. She sighed and headed over to their table.

Setting the glasses down with a purposeful _thump,_ she grinned a little too forcefully at Wick’s surprised expression. “Hello! Drinks on the house today, enjoy. Are you two planning to order food?”

“Clarke, it’s alright.” Raven’s voice was quieter than she was used to, but firm nonetheless. “Unless you want…?” Her eyes darted to Wick for a moment.

“I’m fine. Thank you for the water,” he said graciously. 

“Sure. Let me know if you need anything else.” Clarke raised a pointed eyebrow at Raven before moving two tables over to clean up. She glanced at the shitty tip and wrinkled her nose, shoving it in the pocket of her small apron all the same. 

Heading over to the bar, she skirted around a broad dark-haired guy sitting at the corner to grab a rag from the back. The bartender handed over a few drinks, then popped over, tossing her thick chestnut hair over one shoulder. Clarke glanced up as Emori adjusted her bandana. Today it was decorated with skulls. 

As she stood again, Emori said, “Is that him?”

“Wick. Yeah.” Clarke rested her elbows on the counter and peeked over her shoulder again. 

“He’s cute.” The other girl spun a few bottles in her hand with ease before mixing her next drink. “How’s it going?”

“Hard to tell, so far. Maybe I’ll give them some fries too…” she thought out loud.

“You know this is coming out of your pay right?”

She shrugged. “It’s Raven.” 

Emori smiled and touched her shoulder for a moment. “Tell you what, I think I saw John disappear in the back with some untouched nachos. Go grab them before he decides to take them home.”

Relieved, Clarke grinned. “You’re the best.”

Her friend winked. “I know.”

Clarke hurried into the back, finding the tray of nachos indeed untouched, and hastily grabbed them. Swinging back outside, she maneuvered around Harper, who whispered, “He’s a hottie” as she passed by.

She had to admit, he was good-looking. Hella tall, dirty blonde hair and scruff covering his jaw. Apparently a newly-minted chemistry teacher, from what little she’d dragged out of Raven over a few too many mojitos. But despite what were two fantastic dates, he’d been seen by Harper with his arm around a young brunette one day - the same brunette he’d driven off with moments later.

Raven had ended it almost immediately, giving him no reason for it - and no chance to explain. Clarke understood. After the fiasco that was Finn, she didn’t blame her for not wanting anything to do with that again. But Wick was persistent as hell, dropping by The Cheesecake Factory nearly every day that Raven was on shift, and when Clarke came home one day to find her with a tub of Brownie Batter ice cream and How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days on TV, she decided maybe something had to be done.

So now they were here, having arranged to meet up after Raven’s shift while Clarke circled their table like a hawk. She made no secret of it on purpose. _He should know Raven’s loved, and if he’s not up to it, now’s the time to speak._ As she got closer again, she heard snippets of conversation.

_”Things are alright, got a new class of high schoolers for the fall semester. Working on lesson plans and the like. You?”_

_“The usual. Shifts here and then school, usually the lab.”_

_”Right. So, um--”_

“You guys look hungry!” Clarke butted in, setting the plate down. “Here, eat. These are delicious, I promise,” she said to Wick’s startled face.

She began cleaning another table nearby, ears perked up. After a moment, Wick started up again.

“So, uh, you… you look good. Real good, Raven.”

“Thanks.” Raven was scratching at a splinter on the table.

It took Clarke only another minute of awkward silence to decide she was going to have this conversation for them even if it killed her. Throwing down her rag, she whipped around.

And ran smack into a wall. 

Okay, it wasn’t a wall, it was someone’s chest, but an extremely solid chest at that. Blinking, she took a step back and nearly tripped, his arm around her waist the only thing that kept her upright.

“Careful, blondie.” The voice was rich, what she thought dark chocolate would sound like if it could speak. Needless to say, she liked it. She did not, however, like the nickname. Looking up, she found a handsome, tanned face staring back. Beyond the amusement, there was something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Clearing her throat, she stepped out of his hold a little belatedly.

“Thanks. Sorry about that.”

“No problem. Mind if I borrow you for a second? I could use your help.” When she narrowed her eyes, he lifted an eyebrow. "Just a second, I swear."

Curious, she threw a quick glance over at Raven's table before nodding. To her surprise, he went straight out the front door. As soon as they were on the sidewalk, he turned on her. “Alright, will you lay off Kyle for two seconds?”

“What? Who the hell is-” Her eyes widened. “Are you freaking kidding me? You’re with Wick?”

He scoffed. “What, you thought he was going to come into the lion’s den alone? Of course I’m with him.”

Something was nagging at her, something about the way he raked a frustrated hand through his mop of curly hair and the freckles on his cheeks that she wanted to trace…

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “You were here on Tuesday! At the bar, chatting up Raven!” Suddenly angry, she shoved at his chest, annoyed when he barely budged. “You were scoping her out?!”

 _”No,”_ he held up a finger. “I wanted to know if she was actually genuine about wanting to see him.”

She crossed her arms in disbelief. “And you thought coming to the bar was your best bet.” 

“Look, I admit it wasn’t ideal, but I’d never met this girl and Kyle hasn’t shut up about her for _weeks,_ alright, and he was so thrilled when she finally said yes to dinner I thought I'd never hear the end of it. Then she dumps him out of the blue and just... I’ve never seen him so upset. I just needed to see for myself if she even cared.”

“Raven keeps things pretty close to the chest. She barely even tells _me_ her feelings and I’m her best friend,” Clarke gritted out. “Of course she looked fine to you. She was working, and she was bartending. It’s her job to make tips.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice," he retorted. "I’m a bartender too. I get it. And for the record, I didn’t say she looked fine at all,” he added. 

That made Clarke pause. Maybe he was more perceptive than she gave him credit for. That didn't mean she had to like it. Chewing her bottom lip, she glanced out at the sunny day, irritated that for once she wanted a storm to match her mood.

“So what,” she finally said, “does this make you the Darcy to Wick’s Bingley or something?” 

He snorted. “Please don’t tell me that makes you Lizzie.”

Again, she was taken aback. “You understood that reference?”

“I’m going to grad school to teach English lit. Of course I understood the reference.” 

Ugh. That was impressive, Clarke had to admit. “Well how was I supposed to know?” she snapped. “I don’t know a thing about you, except you waltzed in here and pulled me away while I was trying to watch out for my friend.”

“And I’m watching out for mine. They deserve time to talk things out. Alone. It’s never gonna happen if you keep jumping in like that.”

Sighing, she twirled an errant strand of hair around her finger. “You don’t know Raven.”

His brow furrowed. “Can I at least ask what made her dump him? Is this even worth it, or is he just making a fool of himself?”

She studied him for a long moment. “That’s not my story to tell,” she finally said. “But I will say that I wanted him to have a chance to explain himself. If there’s anything to explain. I don’t know.” She scuffed the ground with her foot, frustrated.

“Fair enough. But just let it happen, will you? He’s nervous enough as it is.”

“So is she,” she muttered, but nodded anyways.

When they re-entered, the nachos were slowly being consumed, and Clarke decided their drinks needed a refill. This time she quietly set the glasses down and moved on, catching Raven’s eyes for only a quick moment. Wick’s companion had settled back at the bar, and now she realized - he’d been there the whole time she was talking to Emori. _Whatever. Better he knows Raven’s got us on her side._

She was cleaning up a table next to them when Wick quietly said, “So, are you seeing anyone?”

Clarke stiffened despite herself.

“No.” Raven’s voice was a near whisper. But she still wouldn’t ask, clinging fiercely to her pride. 

_Come on, Raven. Do it._ She waited as the silence stretched out over seconds, her hand hovering above the table as she stood frozen on the spot. When it became clear Raven wouldn’t speak, Clarke had had enough.

Marching over to the table, she asked, “Are _you_ seeing anyone?”

“Clarke,” Raven said at the same time she felt a presence by her side, followed by, “Blondie…”

“I have a _name,”_ she shot back, then faced Wick again. “Well? Are you?”

Bemused, Wick answered, “Of course not.”

They stared at him, both stunned by the blatant denial. What struck Clarke was his complete lack of hesitation. “Bullshit,” Raven finally said. Wick’s eyebrows nearly lifted off his head.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. That’s bullshit. Harper _saw--”_ Her voice cracked, and she stopped abruptly. 

“You and the brunette,” Clarke finished, folding her arms. “Our friend saw you heading out of the school together and getting in the car. You didn’t look like just friends.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hang on.” Wick held his hand up. “When was this? And can you be more specific?”

Clarke pulled out her phone and showed him the two pictures Harper had taken. In the first, he just had his arm slung around the girl, but in the second he was kissing her forehead before she got in the passenger seat of his beat-up blue truck.

“Jesus Christ. _Bellamy,”_ Wick groaned and slumped onto the table, head pillowed on his arms.

Confused, Clarke asked, “Who the hell is Bellamy?”

“I’m Bellamy.” The answer came from Wick’s friend, who was now looking over her shoulder at her phone, eyes wide with understanding. “Fuck. Sorry. Excuse my French. But fuck.” He barked out something like a laugh, then shook his head. “This is a huge misunderstanding. That’s my little sister.”

Clarke’s head was spinning. She looked at Raven, whose jaw was hanging open. 

Sighing, Bellamy clapped a hand on Wick’s shoulder. “Her name is Octavia. I’d asked Kyle to give her a ride home because she’s student teaching at his school and my car was in the shop for a few days. They’ve known each other since we were kids. We all have.”

“She’s like _my_ sister,” Wick said. “She had a shit day and I was trying to cheer her up. High schoolers _suck._ But I swear to god, Raven, that’s all it was.”

Raven was gaping at him, speechless. When nobody spoke for a full minute, Wick softly asked, “Why didn’t you just tell me about this, instead of shutting me out?”

It was Clarke’s turn to hug her friend when she looked away. “This isn’t the first time that’s happened,” she explained briskly, swallowing the lump in her own throat. “We’re sort of running out of second chances at the moment.”

A shadow crossed both boys’ faces then, and she knew they’d understood. 

Tentatively, Wick reached a hand across the table, palm up. “I’d never do that to you,” he said seriously. “I told you, I basically grew up with a sister, and I know how I’d want her to be treated.”

Clarke squeezed Raven’s shoulder reassuringly before glancing at Bellamy. By mutual agreement, they headed to the bar. Emori had her hands on her hips, eyebrow cocked. 

“Well? What’s the verdict?”

Clarke smiled. “Undecided, but promising. Here, I’ll take over now.” When her friend opened her mouth to protest, she added, “It’s like 15 minutes until you’re done. _Go._ Murphy’s sulking around the kitchen waiting for you.”

Emori’s mouth twisted into a grin at that, and she hopped over the counter, heading into the back. Clarke took care of the other two patrons before turning to Bellamy, whose eyes had been on her the whole time. Not unwelcome, by any means, just a little more brazen than she was used to. Or maybe she felt brazen for liking it. Whatever the case, she put a little more behind her smile.

“What can I get you?”

“Jack and coke.” 

“Good choice.” She made it up quickly and slid it over, shaking her head when he reached for his wallet. “On the house.”

Bellamy tilted his head, then grinned faintly, holding his glass up in thanks. Reaching under the counter, she took a swig from her own bottle of water. “So how long are you stuck here?” He asked after a moment.

“I’m off at eight. Just in time for the last bus.” She made a face. “Can’t wait for my baby to get out of the shop.”

“That sucks. What happened?”

She shrugged. “What always happens. Went in for an oil change, came out with a list of other problems. Unfortunately this time I couldn’t ignore them like I usually do.”

“I’m guessing you’ve had it - _her_ \- for a while then?” He asked. She liked that he used the pronoun without question.

“Yeah, worked through high school to save up enough. Mom said if I could reach half the price, she’d pitch in for the other half. Totally worth it." Anticipating the next question, she said, "Old green Corolla. I call her The Dowager Empress.” She grinned when he let out a surprised laugh. “What do you drive?”

“Grey Jeep. Bought from a friend and fixed it up as best I could, with some help. Does the job.”

She rested her chin on a hand. “Does she have a name?”

“What makes you think it’s a she?”

“Of course it’s a she. We’re much more reliable.” Clarke winked. Bellamy stared at her for a moment, then grinned widely, a bright flash of teeth and crinkling eyes that momentarily dazzled her. 

“No name yet,” he said honestly.

She clucked in sympathy. “Poor old gal. Chauffeuring you everywhere and that’s the thanks she gets?”

He chuckled. “Tell you what, you can name her if you want. But I get three vetoes.” 

“Deal.” Clarke held out her hand, and after a moment Bellamy grasped it, his grip warm and sure. For a second, she became aware of just how small her hand looked, enveloped by his dark palm. 

“So what do you do when you’re not working, blondie?”

Her nose wrinkled. “I told you I don’t like that nickname.”

“Alright,” he drawled, “we’ll find you another.”

“Do I need one? I have an actual name, you know.”

“That’s no fun.” He finished off his drink with a grin. “So? What’s your story?”

“Pre-med. Senior, over at Ark University. I’m applying to med schools in the fall.” 

Bellamy whistled. “Damn. Tough life.” Before she could reply, he added, “Doesn’t matter as long as you love it,” and that make her like him even more. Then his smile turned sly. “So what is a pre-med student who works at The Cheesecake Factory doing with paint smears on her skin?”

“What?” Clarke twisted, trying to see if she’d missed a spot on her legs. 

Laughing, Bellamy crooked a finger at her. Leaning closer, he tapped her elbow. “Red here. And there was some blue on the back of your neck.”

She flushed and immediately untied her braid, shaking her blonde locks out over her shoulders. “I wish someone had mentioned that sooner,” she muttered.

“It’s not that obvious. I just happened to see it when I was looking over your shoulder.”

“In any case. Thanks.” Sheepishly, she explained, “I paint a lot. My dad was an artist, and I grew up playing around in his studio. I’ve sort of carved out a space for myself in the apartment now. It… it relaxes me.”

Bellamy’s eyes softened a little. But when he spoke, his voice was light. “You know, it’s not really fair for you to be so talented. Gotta leave something for the rest of us muggles, you know.”

Clarke laughed, grateful for his perceptiveness. “Well what about you? All I know is that you’re a bartender who’s in grad school and you have a little sister. And you have good taste in drinks.”

“What do you want to know?”

_Everything._

A couple of girls chose that moment to land on the barstools, diverting her attention. She nearly frowned at the interruption, then scolded herself for being so silly. What was she doing? She was at work, not on a date! 

She threw an apologetic smile at Bellamy. “Hold that thought.”

Mixing the drinks gave her something else to focus on, though she was hyperaware of him all the same, the way black ink peeked out from the underside of his arm and how he absently tapped his fingers on the counter in time to the radio. She slid the drinks over with a quick thanks and turned, nearly crashing into Harper.

“Shit! Sorry!” 

Her friend smiled a little too mischievously. “Clumsier than usual today, aren’t you?”

Clarke glared in warning even as her cheeks heated up. Harper was more observant than anyone gave her credit for; as a result, she was all too aware of what - _who_ \- was throwing Clarke off balance at the moment.

“Looks like it’s going pretty well.” 

She followed Harper’s gaze back to the table, where Raven had cracked a tiny smile at something Wick was saying. Victory indeed.

~~~~~~~

Time progressed more quickly than she’d expected. Between her customers, Bellamy, and the odd couple at the table, there was enough going on. She’d offered Bellamy another drink, but he’d politely declined - “designated driver and all.” Still, he was seated on the barstool, munching on the peanuts by the counter and giving her another crinkly-eyed smile when she set a regular Coke in front of him without comment.

When Raven stood and headed into the back, Clarke nearly followed, except that Wick strode quickly to the bar, handing over a ten-dollar bill. Confused, she tried to wave it off.

“I told you, it’s all on the house.”

He gave her a look startlingly similar to Raven’s. “I know this is coming out of your pay, Clarke. I’d be an ass to let that happen, even if you are being a really decent human being for offering.”

“Just take it, Clarke.” Raven was smirking slightly as she leaned against the counter. “You’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.”

It was the smile that did her in. But even as she held out her hand, she couldn’t resist a final nudge. “One condition,” she told Wick.

“Name it.”

“You two should head over to Igloo. The fro-yo place on 20th? It’s her favorite.” It was like ten blocks away, but still. It was. Bellamy was fighting a grin as he took a sip of his Coke, but his eyes laughed all the same. Clarke propped a hand on her hip. “Well?”

Wick glanced at Raven, who was carefully studying a thread on her shirt and not looking at anyone. “I’m up for that,” he finally said. “If you’re free.”

Raven’s eyes darted sideways to Clarke, who nodded, and then back to him. “I could eat,” she murmured, and Wick brightened on the spot.

As they left, fingers hesitantly brushing, Bellamy grinned at her. “You’re quite the matchmaker.”

“I wouldn’t normally push so hard, but… she really likes him. I knew she did. Sometimes it’s hard to believe, but misunderstandings do happen.” She shrugged. “He seems worth it.”

“He is,” Bellamy answered instantly, and she smiled.

Lingering, she cleaned the same spot three times before asking, “So I guess you-”

A crash made them both turn towards the two girls at the bar, one of whom had just dropped a glass onto the floor. Clarke sighed and rolled her neck before running to grab the broom. As she swept up the shards, Harper kept the two very giggly girls out of the way, though it was becoming more of a struggle by the minute.

 _Keys,_ Clarke mouthed to her. Harper reached around in their bags, coming up with a set of keys and slipping them under the counter while they were distracted. Emptying the broken glass into the trashcan, Clarke found the smaller of the two girls swaying dangerously as she stood on wobbly legs. _Jesus,_ she groaned internally. 

Bellamy was already there by the time she got close. “Need some help?” He asked, and she nodded gratefully. He easily picked up the girl, heading into the back, while she and Harper followed with her friend. They sat them both down on the floor against a cooler.

“I’ll call a cab,” Harper said.

“Yeah, and can you check on that other couple that was out there? The older one. Give them a discount or something, I think some glass might have gone in their direction.”

With a nod, Harper disappeared out front. Exhaling, Clarke turned back to Bellamy. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

“Not with these two in particular, but yes, unfortunately. I don’t know what it is about this place that makes people want to get drunk. I mean if I was going to drink, it wouldn’t be at a cheesecake factory, you know?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Unless you crave cheesecake when you’re drunk.”

“Not particularly. Just copious amounts of fries.”

“Good to know.” 

Before she could dwell on that, the younger of the two girls sat up straight, a grimace twisting her features. _Oh, fuck._ Clarke knew what that meant. She rushed to grab an empty bucket and set it in front of her just as the girl puked long and hard. Kneeling, she gently swept her hair away, rubbing her back until she was done. She was reaching for the bucket when Bellamy picked it up instead.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“It’s alright. Not my first time either. Sink out back?” 

She nodded and retrieved a glass of water for the girl. “Slowly,” she advised, then held it to her lips. Bellamy returned soon, eyeing them in concern. “She’ll be fine. The wonders of alcohol.” Clarke wrung out a wet rag, then laid it over her forehead.

Bellamy was smiling slightly when she looked up. “Bet this isn’t in your job description.”

Clarke grinned. “Not this one. But my future job… highly likely.”

Now he did smile. To her surprise, he hung out in the back while they waited for the cab to arrive, even though it seemed to take longer than usual. When they finally heard a car pull up, Bellamy heaved the other girl into his arms while Clarke helped her friend to her feet. By this point the girl was lucid enough to give an address to the driver, and Clarke made her promise to return for the keys the following day.

Heading back inside, she peeked at Bellamy. “Thanks for helping out. You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I didn’t mind.” He paused, then added, “They remind me of my sister, sometimes. Guess I can’t really help myself.”

She smiled and grasped his arm. “You must be a good big brother.”

He blinked, staring at her long enough that a blush rose on her cheeks. Finally, his mouth curling, he said, “Work in progress.”

“Aren’t we all.” 

“Clarke, are you still here?” Harper stood in the doorway, Monroe peeking over her shoulder. “That bus isn’t going to wait for you, you know.”

Checking her watch, she gulped and went to clock out. She was a little too aware of Bellamy smirking off to the side as Monroe peppered her with question after question about Raven and Wick. After counting her tips, she promised to fill her in the next day and hurried out the door, Bellamy on her heels. Apparently he was walking her to the bus stop - which, she was totally okay with.

~~~~~~~

His long strides covered ground easily while Clarke hustled beside him. Bellamy was maybe a little too enamored by the tiny little blonde, intrigued by her quiet proclamation of second chances and her fiercely loyal nature. He’d been pissed at first when he saw her continually interrupting Wick, but after hearing her speak about Raven, he realized she was only doing the same thing he was - supporting a friend.

As they stopped across the street, Clarke looked to the left and her face fell at the sight of the bus. “Oh no no no, come on light, turn red,” she begged. 

_Stay green, damnit,_ he thought to himself, and then decided, _I’m a horrible person._

The light stayed green. She groaned as the bus flew by the empty stop. “Son of a bitch,” she grumbled.

Bellamy let out a short laugh, immediately sobering when she glared. “Sorry. I mean, I wasn’t laughing at you, it’s just… you, cursing. It’s cute.” _Fucking adorable._ He added potty mouth to what was rapidly becoming a long list of of turn ons with this girl.

“Not cute enough for the bus to stop apparently,” Clarke replied, though her mouth seemed to be fighting a happy smile anyways.

“Their loss,” he said. “Come on, let me give you a ride home.”

“No, that’s not necessary. I live in Sky Hill, it’s like half an hour from here--”

“I know the way,” he said, as if that was the problem. “My sister lives in that neighborhood.”

Taken aback, she squinted up at him in the dying sunlight. “But… isn’t it really out of your way?”

His mouth curved at her guess. “I don’t remember telling you where I live.”

“You didn’t. I just assumed… ‘cause, I mean, it’s a small area, I feel like I would have remembered you.” She blushed hotly as soon as the words were out of her mouth. 

_Oh god I want to kiss you._ Bellamy felt a foolish grin tugging at his lips. “Would you, now?”

Embarrassed, she looked away. “Forget it. I can just walk, I’ve done it before.”

“Clarke, hey.” He lightly touched her elbow. “Seriously, let me drop you off. Please. Otherwise I’m going to spend the whole night wondering if the little blonde waitress who references Jane Austen and happens to save lives on the side made it home or not.” 

Fine, yeah, he was breaking out the full charm now, but her tomato-like face made him hope it was working. She ducked her head in agreement, slowly heading for the Jeep as he fell into step beside her. One side of her mouth lifted upwards when she took in the clean interior of the car - aside from a stray water bottle, nothing was out of place.

“Neat freak?” She asked.

Bellamy merely grinned and put on his sunglasses. Wiggling a little, Clarke made herself comfortable quickly, curling up on the seat with a small sigh. Damn, he could get used to the sight of her in his car. 

They were on the road only for a few minutes, her fingers absently tapping along to the radio, when he cursed under his breath. “What?” Clarke sat up and followed his gaze to the scene ahead, where traffic had stalled and unmistakable blue and red lights winked in the distance.

“Not againnnn,” she moaned. “How is it someone gets into an accident on this route every single fucking day?”

Yeah, he was dying to kiss that potty mouth.

“Beats the hell outta me. Hang on.” Bellamy put an arm over her seat while he turned to check behind him, then put the car in reverse. They swung onto an earlier turn that looked less like a road and more like a beaten path. Abruptly, he realized she might not appreciate being taken on a detour by someone she’d just met. 

“You don’t mind, right?” He asked. “I just- I know the back roads well, and it’s better than sitting there for an hour…”

Clarke waved a hand, easing his nerves. “No, please, that’s totally fine. I wish I knew them better myself. I usually only take them if Raven’s there to guide me. Otherwise everything starts to look the same.” She smiled brightly, and he found himself returning it.

Now and then he caught snatches of her lilting voice singing along to the radio, her foot tapping along to the beat and her head swaying side to side. At first, she seemed to catch herself and stop, but soon she got lost in the song again and relaxed. Her voice was calming, and in his mind’s eye he could easily picture her puttering around her apartment while humming to herself.

That was when the car began to sputter, and no amount of pressing the gas pedal would make it stop. _You have got to be kidding me..._ He groaned. Alarmed, Clarke sat up while he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, slowly switching between the gas and brake pedals until he could bring the Jeep to a halt on the side of the road.

Irritated, he checked for any indicator lights on his dash and found none. “Sorry,” he told her. “Just a sec, let me check if the tires are alright.” He hopped out and quickly made a round, finding the pressure perfectly fine. _What the fuck…_ Playing a hunch, Bellamy got back in the driver’s seat and and checked the dashboard again. The gas needle was doing something wonky. He banged on the dash lightly with his fist; then again. The needle swung from F to E.

“Motherfucker…” he slid down in his seat a little, covering his face with a hand. _Of all the times to be a little bitch..._

“What is it?” Clarke unlatched her seatbelt and leaned over, her long blonde curls trailing over his shoulder and tickling his arm.

“The gauge is screwed up. It was reading full this whole time but it’s empty. Obviously.” Sighing, he looked out at the darkening night, then back at her. “I’m really sorry about this, Clarke. I really had no idea, I swear.”

To his complete astonishment, a peal of laughter burst forth. He gaped. She giggled again, almost sniggering, and fell back into her seat. “Guess we used up all our luck on Raven and Wick.” 

Bellamy laughed with her, unable to do much else. “Guess so. Any chance you saw a gas station on our way?”

She shook her head. “Not that I remember.” Pulling out her phone, she blew out a breath. “Damn, my signal sucks out here. Besides I don’t know who I’d call…” 

Bellamy reached for his phone - only to remember he’d left it with Octavia for the day, since hers was out of commission and he didn’t plan on needing his. Ruefully, he said as much to Clarke. 

“It’s fine. Let’s just pick a direction and start walking. If anything there has to be _someone_ around.” She jumped out and rounded to the back, where he was removing the empty canister.

“Bartok,” Clarke said suddenly.

“Come again?”

“Bartok.” She beamed, clearly proud of her choice. “You said I could name him.”

Bellamy was fighting a smile and failing miserably. “I thought you said it was definitely a her?”

“Changed my mind. Only Bartok would be so silly as to give you a false reading and then break down on the road.”

She patted the top of the Jeep as if it were actually about to respond. Well, there was no way he could veto that now. Thinking back on their earlier conversation, Bellamy smirked. “Dowager Empress, now Bartok. Fan of Disney movies, huh?”

“Anastasia wasn’t a Disney movie,” she responded instantly, as if she’d been waiting for him to say just that. “It’s a common misconception. But it’s awesome that you knew what that was from.”

“Little sister, remember?”

“Of course. If you ask me, she totally should be a Disney princess. She’s awesome.”

Delighted, he grinned. “Takes one to know one, princess.”

Clarke wrinkled her nose. “Aw, come onnnn. Really?”

“No going back now, you started it.” Bellamy wiggled his eyebrows. With a huff, she started off down the road. He was about to follow when he noticed her wrap her arms around her middle, rubbing her elbows. Diving into the trunk, he grabbed his one trusty hoodie and hurried to catch up.

She started when he draped it over her shoulders. “In case it gets cold,” he said.

Smiling, Clarke tucked her arms into the sleeves with a dash of pink on her cheeks. Something strange twisted in his chest. _You can keep that forever. No one’s ever gonna look that good in it again._

They strolled along the side of the road while the sun descended, the reds and oranges prominent overhead as darkness crept along in the distance. Clarke seemed particularly calm walking alongside him, not freaking out like he expected most others would be. When she caught him watching, he shrugged.

“Kind of figured you’d be more pissed off at me right now.”

“Nah, what’s the point?” She shoved her hands into the hoodie pockets. “You’re my ride, one way or another. No reason to get mad about something I can’t control. Besides, I trust you.”

The easy way she said it warmed his heart. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She grinned impishly, the brown dot above her mouth winking. “Should I not?”

“I plead the Fifth,” he joked, and her laugh echoed in the air.

They wandered for a while past more and more trees and open fields until finally the lights of a small store appeared in the distance. “I don’t see any gas pumps,” Clarke murmured. Then her stomach grumbled, and he chuckled and grabbed her hand without thinking.

“Let’s go.” 

He bought her a chocolate milkshake and the contents of the warmer, which included several questionable tacos and two hot dogs. She also tried to pay separately for some extra junk food, which he just threw on the pile with a grin. They headed back to the car with their spoils, and even though they hadn’t succeeded in their original mission, Bellamy couldn’t say he was that bummed. Clarke didn’t seem to mind, either.

“Maybe you can call Wick,” he suggested. “I know O had his truck for the day but she should be home by now.”

Clarke considered it, chewing on a Twizzler. “You think he’s still with Raven?”

“It’s possible.”

“Let’s give them a bit longer,” she decided. “Besides, we have food. We’ll be fine.”

“You don’t mind being stuck out here alone?”

“I’m not alone,” she grinned. “I’ve got Vladimir to protect me.” 

It took him a moment to figure out what she meant. Then his jaw dropped in (mostly) mock outrage. _”I’m Vlad??”_

Clarke giggled merrily, sticking out her tongue. “What’s not to like about Vlad? He’s a loyal friend and a great bargainer. He’s like a big teddy bear.”

Bellamy scowled and unwrapped his Snickers, taking a large bite. “I’m so not Vlad,” he mumbled again. Her laughter chimed in his ear as she looped her arm through his, and then he couldn’t remember what he was mad about. Her fingers were cold where they grasped his elbow, and yet somehow his skin felt overly hot at every point they touched. He slowed his pace a little - so that she didn't have to jog to keep up, obviously. Because of their height difference. Not because he wanted to prolong this... nope.

When the car did eventually come into sight, he reluctantly had to let go. Clarke hopped back into the seat, leaving her red flats on the floor and curling her feet under her while he pushed his own seat back, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“Hot dog or taco?” He asked.

“Hot dog.” Her lack of hesitation told him she was just as unsure about the tacos as he was. She opened a bag of cheddar Chex Mix, propping it on the armrest between them. Watching her happily munch away, he couldn’t help but think he wanted to take her out properly, do things right, instead of giving her a random truck stop meal in a broken-down car.

_So much for being a gentleman._

When Clarke’s hand closed over his, he looked up in surprise. “Did I say that out loud?” He asked meekly.

She nodded. After a moment, she said, “Trust me, this is way better than any first date I’ve had a long time.” 

“So this is a date?” He asked, a tad gleeful. Clarke’s mouth opened and closed, occasionally making a noise but otherwise unable to form words. With a grin, he let her off the hook. “I still say I can do much better than this.”

“You’re doing just fine,” she replied softly. When her eyes flicked to his, she must have seen his poorly-hidden curiosity, because she smiled a little. “It’s okay. You can ask.”

He had been ready to leave it alone, but… “What you said earlier, about second chances. You said _we._ I’m guessing that was intentional.”

“Yeah. Well… yeah.” Clarke popped another cracker in her mouth. “That’s… it’s sort of how Raven and I met, as fucked up as that is. We were dating the same guy.” Even though she said it quickly enough, he winced. “Neither of us knew, until I starting working at The Cheesecake Factory. Then everything sort of spilled out. It sucked, but he's out of the picture now, and what matters is Raven's still here.”

“Damn. I’m…” _sorry_ was what he was about to say, but somehow she didn’t seem like she needed it. “That’s a really shitty thing, what he did.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Bellamy hated the dejected look on her face. He didn’t even know who this idiot was and he wanted to throttle him already. “He can be Rasputin,” he declared, rewarded by her bright smile.

“Totally,” Clarke agreed, and clinked her milkshake against his soda bottle.

The strains of a familiar song floated through the car, getting louder as Clarke dug around in her bag and came up with her phone. _Mister Aladdin, sir, have a wish or two or three..._

Bellamy began to laugh. “Seriously? Genie’s song from Aladdin?”

Clarke’s mouth twitched even as she held her hands up. “What can I say? It’s our song.” Quickly, she answered. “Raven! Hey, what- What? How do you even- Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker.”

Her friend’s voice floated through instantly, both accusing and a tad concerned. “Where the hell are you?” 

“Uh…” Clarke laughed nervously. “In Bellamy’s car. Wick’s friend, I don’t know if you remember… Anyways, we broke down about halfway to my place, on the back roads. There was an accident on Route 46 as usual.”

There was a good thirty seconds of silence, and then: “Well damn. Good for you for jumping on that.”

Soda nearly came out his nose. Clarke blushed furiously and covered the receiver as if it would somehow take back the words. Bellamy was trying extremely hard not to laugh, but it was a losing battle. _”Raven!”_ she hissed. “Speaker, damnit. Come on. Anyways, where are you?”

“I’m at your place. I told Wick to drop me off here since I thought you’d be home already.”

“Oh. Shit. When did Wick leave? Can you call him?”

Bellamy cut in. “Hi Raven. Did Wick already pick up his truck?”

“Yeah, that’s how we got here. Picked it up on the way.”

“Can you get a hold of him and tell him to head out to Sadler Road with an extra canister of gas? We’re just past mile marker 12.”

“I’m on it.”

The call cut off. Still avoiding his eyes, Clarke put her phone into a hoodie pocket. “Sometimes I think she’d make a good Sophie,” she muttered under her breath, and now he did laugh.

~~~~~~~

Wick arrived half an hour later with Raven in the passenger seat. Empty wrappers were all that was left of the food. Clarke was in the midst of regaling Bellamy with a tale about one of her favorite regulars, an older Persian lady who came in at 7p.m. every Sunday evening and ordered a different cocktail every time.

“I’ve never been so thankful for Google. Do you even know what _Sex With An Alligator_ is??” Bellamy’s chortle cut through the air, his shoulders shaking. “Neither did I, but it's a thing, apparently. And don’t even get me started on Gorilla Milk,” she added. Bellamy laughed even harder, the sound reverberating into her bones.

She was mesmerized by him, the line of his throat as he tossed his head back, his elbow resting on the open window. So she kept talking, her hands flailing, one still holding the last piece of a Twix bar, until a horn honked and startled them both.

The first thing she saw was bright headlights, and then two grinning faces. Relieved - and yeah, a little saddened that the evening was over - she watched Bellamy greet Wick with much thanks while Raven sauntered over and slung her elbows over the open window to chat.

“Took a little bit home for dessert, didja?” Raven wiggled her eyebrows, laughing when Clarke shushed her hurriedly.

“He’s _right there,”_ she whispered. “And no, I missed my bus and he was nice enough to offer me a ride home. That’s it.”

“Riiiight. And you happened to stop for milkshakes, hot dogs and junk food? This is totally a date, Griffin.”

“His car broke down,” she protested. “We went looking for a gas station and ended up finding a convenience store. What was I supposed to do?”

“Make some new memories in the backseat, obviously,” Raven drawled. "Or the front, your pick." 

Clarke opened her mouth to scold her friend when Bellamy and Wick strolled back. She shut her mouth quickly, trying very hard not to think about how appealing that option suddenly sounded. Bellamy climbed back into the driver’s seat as Raven headed back to the truck. When Clarke didn’t budge, his apprehensive expression turned earnest, complete with dark puppy-dog eyes to match.

Coyly, she fluttered her eyelashes, her voice low. “Can I still get a ride home?” Bellamy’s mouth dropped open for a good ten seconds before she broke, her laugh chiming in the space between them. “Sorry,” she gasped. “I couldn’t resist.”

He tipped his head back with a wide grin. “For the record, I don’t think anyone alive could have said no to that.”

Still giggling, she clicked the seatbelt in place. Wick pulled up beside them. “We’re headed to the same spot, so just flash your headlights if anything else goes wrong.”

Bellamy gave him a thumbs-up and started the Jeep again. “Good Bartok,” Clarke murmured, and Bellamy’s low chuckle warmed her to her toes. The drive back was silent, but comfortably so. She may or may not have nodded off once or twice - which, as far as she was concerned, was a compliment. Sleeping in other people’s company was not something that came very naturally to her.

When they reached her building, Bellamy pulled into a spot at the end of the street. As Raven strode inside, Clarke lingered by the open window on the driver’s side.

“Thanks again, for all your help today.”

“Are you sure I didn’t make things more complicated? Because it kind of feels like that.” 

Laughing softly, she shook her head. “You didn’t. I promise.” After only a slight hesitation, she said, “Your phone’s with your sister, right?” He nodded. “Okay, then put your number in here.”

She handed over her phone. For a few seconds, Bellamy simply stared at it, his mouth lifting at the corners. It made her far too happy to see that. Recovering, he punched in the digits and gave it back, offering a smile that made her knees wobble.

“So do I-”

Neither of them would know what the end of that sentence was, because then she kissed him. It was swift and chaste and she might have been shaking a bit, but even then she caught the taste of spicy mustard and faint chocolate, an odd combination that shouldn’t have left her head spinning but did anyways because of the boy in question. 

When she pulled back, smiling shyly, all Bellamy could manage was, “At least let me get out of the car.”

She laughed. “Next time. After you take me on a second date.” 

His voice was low and husky when he answered, “I’m gonna hold you to that, princess.”

“Please do.” Grinning, she leaned closer. “Oh and by the way,” she whispered, “You’re not Vlad.” 

Bellamy’s face lit up radiantly like a kid on Christmas, and then he cupped a hand around her neck and slanted his mouth over hers, considerably messier and better than she’d done. Her gasp allowed his tongue to sneak inside, effectively rendering her useless. She clutched the door a little longer after he drew back, debating whether to take Raven’s advice and just hop back in.

Bellamy grinned like he knew exactly what was on her mind. “Night, princess.”

“Good night, not-Vlad.” Smiling, she bounced up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~

The next day, she woke up to three texts on her phone.

_This is not-Vlad._

_How do you take your coffee?_

_I hope you like double chocolate chip muffins._

Grinning wildly, she jumped out of bed and went to her window, catching sight of curly dark hair on the front steps. Without a second thought about her flimsy tank top and paint-stained pajama pants, she ran downstairs. Bellamy was already standing when she flung open the front door. Setting down the coffee tray without a word, he swept her into a dizzying kiss.

While she was busy catching her breath, he handed her a coffee cup.

“Wick said he can deal with being Pooka.”


End file.
